To Heal
by ThePreciousHeart
Summary: After running Dodd out of town, Leonard returns to confront Natalie about it. She realizes that he's not to blame- just someone who wants to heal, like herself. This is shameless hurt/comfort extrapolated from/expanding on one of my favorite scenes in the movie, and an exploration of Natalie's character.


"Trust yourself. Trust your own judgement. You can question everything, you can _never_ know anything for sure."

"There are things you know for sure."

She's never seen him like this before. Not that she's intimately acquainted with him- they only met yesterday, after all. And his memory resets don't make it easy for her to get close to him. But yesterday, when he'd explained his condition to her, he'd been so matter-of-fact, to the point of resignation. Nothing like the frustration he's displaying now. She's seen him lose his temper, been close enough to bear the scars of his attack. But he hadn't been _agitated_ like this- worked up, definitely, but not _vulnerable._

"Such as?" she murmurs, to keep him talking. He responds without looking at her.

"I know what that's gonna sound like when I knock on it." His hand raps the table next to the armchair, demonstrating his point.

"I know what that's gonna feel like when I pick it up." He reaches for the glass coaster on top of the table, lifting it with careless ease. Natalie can't tell if the expression on his face is one of disgust that she's even asking, or discouragement that these are the only things he has to rely on.

"See? Certainties. It's the kind of memory you take for granted."

She senses that if he'd told her this yesterday at the bar, he would have spoken calmly, without emotion. But now his walls are down. He reminds her of a tiger she saw once at a zoo, trapped in an enclosure too small for it, doomed to pace back and forth while screaming children eye it from behind glass. Just like that tiger, Leonard is stuck in an environment from which he can never escape, and yet he longs to transcend his boundaries.

"You know, I can remember so much." He jabs meaninglessly at the air, his voice taking on a plaintive tone. His eyes shut, as if trying to summon his memories from the depths of his damaged brain.

"The feel of the world… and her…" His voice seems to tremble at the mention of his wife. Natalie stays quiet, the chink in his emotional control drawing her in. He's breathing hard, and it takes him a few moments to collect himself before continuing.

"She's gone." Self-loathing saturates his voice as he comes to grips with his existence. "And the present is trivia, which I scribble down as _fuckin' notes_."

At that, Natalie can't just observe anymore. She's seen the way Leonard operates, the stack of Polaroids he keeps in his shirt pocket and his thick file folder full of clues. It's something she's taken for granted- of course the amnesiac has a method of survival. Of course he's given himself a purpose. She hasn't realized just how much Leonard hates having to saddle himself with these crutches. Despite everything Leonard's done, her misgiving and fear of him staying under her roof, she's compelled to remind him of how he's managed to survive.

"Hey. It's not all bad." She reaches forward to place her hand on his knee, but he flinches under her touch. His blue eyes settle on hers, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wants to say something, but can't afford to break concentration.

"You have purpose. You have _meaning."_ She spreads her hands wide, indicating the world. "You're going to get the guy who killed your wife. Isn't that right?"

From the way he stares at her, she knows he _wants_ to believe her, but he shakes his head. "But what kind of a purpose is that?" He releases a strangled laugh, his lips twisted in a half-smile, half-grimace. "All I can do to keep her memory alive is hunt down the person responsible for ending it. And when I find him, then what?" He reaches up to massage his temples, his eyes fluttering shut once more. "My motivation for- for _living_ is the idea that when it happens, I'll remember it."

"You'll take a photo." Natalie's voice grows stronger, and she starts to get to her feet. "You'll write it down, you'll _know-"_

Leonard halts her motion by dropping his hands, though his eyes are still closed and he can't see her. "That's the thing, Natalie. I don't… I _won't_ know. I'll have the photo, sure. Some mangled fucker lying with his brains blown out, as a… a lasting memento."

His eyes snap open, and he leans forward with an intense, tight smile, though his face holds no joy of which to speak.

"But… I won't _know._ I won't have confirmation from _myself_ that it happened _._ I can look at the photo, read the tattoo, but I'll still wake up every day wondering where she is, and why she's not coming back."

Natalie half-expects Leonard to shout these last words, but instead, his statement trails to a wistful end. His brow furrows as a dark shadow crosses his face, a sorrowful mixture of pain and hatred. Looking away from Natalie, he continues in a softer voice.

"It must be… so _hard_ to live like this. Having to re-learn, every single day, that she's gone." Leonard takes a deep breath. His tone is light, almost sing-song in a way, as if he's trying to puzzle out his feelings and the purpose for them. "But, it doesn't _feel_ like it's hard, you know? It feels like… like the first time. But I don't even know how long it's been." His voice breaks slightly at the end of the sentence, but he continues to resolutely stare into the distance, without meeting Natalie's eyes.

"And… what's really strange is, I _want_ to forget her." Leonard tries for a laugh again, but it comes out choked, humorless. "Because I know… if I do, I'll _move on."_ He bites the inside of his cheek and clears his throat, waiting before speaking again. Natalie doesn't move.

"And yet, I can't afford to… to lose her again. She's all I have left. If I forget her, she'll disappear, and… I _can't_ let that happen. I don't _want_ her to disappear- I just want-"

"You want to _heal._ " Natalie stands up, the shattered shards of her heart giving a painful thud. She understands, of course- Jimmy's death is still achingly fresh.

Leonard takes a shuddering breath, attempting to pull himself together. But when he speaks, his voice shakes.

"Yeah. Of course I do. If I could just… know for sure that time will pass… But it won't. Not for me. So… how _can_ I heal?" His words fade into an anguished, embarrassed whimper. "How am I supposed to _heal_ if I can't… feel time?"

Wordlessly Natalie approaches Leonard. She hesitates a moment before touching him, remembering how he had flinched before. But as soon as her hands slide across his shoulders, Leonard comes to life. He moves instinctually, reaching out to pull her close. His arms wrap around her waist, his head settling in her stomach. His strong fingers curl over her spine, as if trying to absorb her human heat.

Natalie gently strokes the back of Leonard's neck, allowing herself to wind her fingers through his soft hair. Leonard's only reaction is to tighten his grip. Was this how he held his wife once upon a time, or how she held him, assuring him that he would be okay? It's hard to imagine that the Leonard Shelby of before could ever need such comfort. In fact, it's hard to imagine _anything_ about him. This fractured persona of Leonard's, the clueless, murderous amnesiac, is all that remains, as if his personality has been filtered through a sieve.

He's so vulnerable, here in Natalie's arms. Entirely at her mercy. She could do whatever she likes… But before Natalie can seriously ponder that train of thought, Leonard pulls away, rubbing his eyes. His face is red, and he doesn't look up at Natalie. She folds her arms across her chest.

"You okay?" she says quietly. Leonard shrugs, refusing to make eye contact.

"Anything I can do?"

Leonard shakes his head, standing up. "I'd like to take a shower." His voice is rough, but subdued.

"Bathroom's over there." Natalie points to it, speaking gently, as if coaxing a feral animal. "I'll make us something to eat in the meantime."

He shakes his head. "I don't know if I've already eaten- I can't just-"

 _Oh, god, everything comes back to that condition of his._ Trying not to overwhelm Leonard, Natalie cuts in, keeping her voice soft. "Well, I'll make something and if you get hungry, I'm happy to share."

He nods and departs to the bathroom, and Natalie heads over to the kitchen, sighing to herself. Thank god she'd been saving the shake-and-bake pork chops for a special occasion. Cooking has never been her forte- Jimmy always took care of that…

At the thought of Jimmy, a shiver runs through Natalie. She presses her hand to her heart, closing her eyes. _Jimmy. He's gone. He's never coming back…_

Reality intrudes on her and crashes around her ears. What the hell does she think she's _doing,_ housing and talking with and comforting the man who killed the love of her life?

The water system rattles, and Natalie opens her eyes, stealing a glance at the bathroom. At least Leonard has no clue what's going on. At least he can go ahead and kill any random guy and he'll have to be satisfied. But Natalie knows exactly who nabbed Jimmy, has known it ever since he walked into the bar in that beige suit that she'd always admired. And for a moment, that knowledge is too much for her to bear.

Her mind begins to flash wildly, considering her options. When she'd psyched Leonard up yesterday to get him to go after Dodd, he's acknowledged that love was a valid motive for murder. Surely he'll forgive her if she tries to pull it on him.

She wonders briefly if he's got a gun, but that thought is quickly abandoned. Too loud, and too messy- she'd never get the stains out of the carpet.

Maybe she could crush some of her sleeping pills into his meal… but that would take too long, and Leonard would notice straightaway.

Natalie pulls up a chair at the kitchen table to think, and then it hits her.

Maybe she can do nothing.

After all, Leonard Shelby is only here to take the fall. He had had no quarrel with Jimmy Grantz. Jimmy may have committed a number of nefarious deeds during his life, but he'd have never raped anyone. Not when he had Natalie. And he had always freely recounted his crimes, sometimes over a drink on the couch, sometimes in the bedroom as he undressed her, always with a smirk and in guttural tones that made her moan. She would _know_ if he'd murdered this man's wife.

Leonard Shelby is nothing more than a victim. And it doesn't take a second to realize who's pulling his strings.

When Natalie realizes it, she wants to laugh. _Of course._ Teddy, the man who'd come into the bar looking for her to arrange a meeting with Jimmy. The man Jimmy had gone to meet yesterday, a meeting from which he had never returned. It had to be Teddy who'd set Jimmy up. Of course he wouldn't do his own dirty work. And who better to do it than a man who can't remember his actions?

By the time the pork chops are in the oven, a plan has formulated in Natalie's mind. She's so lost in it that she doesn't hear the bathroom door open, and when Leonard's voice sounds from behind her she jumps.

"Excuse me?"

Natalie turns to see Leonard standing in the doorway, dripping wet, his head poking out from behind the door. When he sees her face he aims for a faint grin, but Natalie can see it in his eyes- he doesn't recognize her. A chill runs through her body.

"Leonard." She approaches him, forcing herself to speak slowly for him to comprehend more easily. "I'm Natalie. You're staying at my house. I'm here to help you."

There's a pause as this computes in his head, and then he slowly swings the door open, revealing his half-naked body. He's wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His muscles are well-defined, easy to admire, but Natalie fixates instead on his tattoos. His body is covered in them, some facing towards her, some written backwards, a few specific ones only legible from Leonard's perspective.

"You wouldn't happen to have a fresh change of clothing?" he says, and Natalie swallows, gaining control of herself. She tears her eyes away from Leonard's body and meets his gaze with an air of disinterest, pretending that the tattoos are old news.

"Stay here. I'll fetch some for you." She walks away to the bedroom, trying not to think about Jimmy, how Leonard is stealing from him after his death. Hopefully Leonard will find his photographs in her absence and consult them to bring himself up to speed.

As Natalie rifles through the dresser, her mind is made up. Leonard doesn't deserve to bear the blame of actions he doesn't know he's committed. And he's far too unpredictable to remain a hired gun, as much as she might need the protection. But she can at least use him for one last scheme, something to make the both of them happy.

Leonard might not get his revenge just yet, but Natalie knows she is about to get hers.


End file.
